house of doors
by planet p
Summary: Set after the events of the film. Penny/Prisoner


**house of d****oors** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _The Book of Stars_ or any of its characters.

* * *

_Life offers you doors,_

_But it is you who chooses which to open, and which to close,_

_Which to walk through, and which to ignore._

* * *

It had been… regrettable. A shock tactic – not intended to shock, at least not to shock another (or others), but an action borne of shock, spurned on by shock… shock at the loss of her younger sister, Mary. Perhaps, subconsciously, it had been intended to shock herself, to shock her from her stupor.

She could still remember him, sitting outside her apartment building – she, clutching Mary's Book of Stars, fresh from a visit to the beach – Mary's letters (which he mistakenly believed to be hers) tied neatly and deposited safely in a pocket of his brown suit, the colour of freshly turned earth, the earth in which Mary had finally sunk for her last rest, the greatest adventure.

At first, she'd passed him by, and he'd assumed her to be… someone not Penny, someone not the woman he'd been seeking, waiting for. But then she'd turned back, and he'd somehow taken this as a sign, or an affirmation, that she was indeed Penny.

She remembered his brown hair and his blue eyes… and his cute nose… He'd been hesitant at first, almost shy, but then they'd started talking and he'd shown her the letters Mary had written him in prison – Oh Mary! – and she'd nearly broken down, but she'd tried to be strong, and he'd passed her the letters, and – Oh! – they'd suddenly been in her hands, and she'd wanted to cry, but she didn't, and they continued talking… and they'd ended up standing, and just walking.

They'd walked for a long time before she'd offered to buy them something to eat, dinner, and he'd frowned – he just couldn't, it wouldn't be right – but she'd talked him round, in the end, she'd won… and then she'd realised that she was frightened (not of him, not like that, not because he'd been in _prison_) but because she was so far from anything that resembled familiar – Who was this man? What was she doing with him? – that she had to… had to do the Penny thing… and make it about (someone else's) self-gratification, make it about sex.

She'd always known that she would hate herself afterward, but she'd kept up the steady supply of alcohol anyway – because this she could handle, sex worker she could handle! Confidante, friend – she could not!

He'd been drunk, but nice, and later – for once – it had been him throwing up, and not her, but she'd just listened… and did nothing… and he'd lied – I'm fine – and apologised – the evening had been going so… he couldn't put his finger on it, and then he'd had to excuse himself to throw up again. And all this had _comforted_ Penny, and much as she'd hated herself for it – he'd been so nice – it had comforted her, nonetheless.

She didn't know that that would be her – puking – later, and even then, she didn't realise what it would mean.

* * *

Seven years later, she is a successful writer – under the pseudonym Penny McGee – and lives on the beach in a house with stilts – You live in a house with legs? – with her boyfriend and six-year-old son, Tohon, and she vaguely remembers that Tohon's father's name might have been Daniel.

But though the characters in her novels – she is a romance novelist – believe in love at first sight and true love, Penny McGuire does not, cannot.

The Professor is married now, has children now – three beautiful children which Tohon often plays with on the beach, or at indoor go-karts.

Sometimes, when she lays awake at night, sleepless, she wonders what Mary would be doing now if she'd lived – if she'd be married, if she'd have children, if their children would play together? And sometimes, she thinks of Daniel… who'd been a friend for Mary when, perhaps, she hadn't.

She doesn't miss Daniel, she tells herself – she did not know him, hardly knew him, how could she miss him? – but she sometimes wonders where he is, what he is doing, if he is well.

* * *

In the course of my work, I will be required to conduct research, for which I often frequent libraries or book stores or universities (or colleges) or practically anywhere else at all.

But today, I'd scheduled to take my car in for servicing, and retired to a café across the road, before taking a walk in the nearby mall, and returned to the motor mechanics, both arms full of bags… only to come face to face with Daniel.

A hot blush jumped right off the bitumen I'd just navigated across the double laneway road with my ridiculous amount of coloured paper and plastic bags and onto my skin, and I almost didn't hear when Daniel apologised and moved out of my way, I was struggling so hard not to drop all of those bags.

I stood there for a moment longer, confused – Why hadn't Daniel recognised me? Or had he recognised me, but didn't care? – my heart pounding painfully in my chest, and grew suddenly annoyed with the large vogue sunglasses I was wearing and suddenly wanted to rip off had I had a hand free to do so.

_Of course he hadn't recognised you__!_ I admonished. _Who could – in those glasses?_

But I did not go after him. I paid for the service, and left.

* * *

Was it wrong, I wondered later, that I hadn't informed Daniel of his son? Was that something I was legally required to do, had to do, or was merely the right thing to do?

I could, I supposed, claim payment for Tohon, but that didn't seem right, and I had my own money – I _lived_ on the _beach_! – and I didn't think he'd earn that much doing what he did, though I wasn't sure exactly what he did, above that it was something in the realm of vehicles, mechanics…

Home from school, I glanced at my son, and realised that they had the same hair, that Tohon had Daniel's hair, the same brown: not light, but not dark either (Mary had had dark hair, I remembered).

After dinner, I tucked Tohon into bed and wished him goodnight – he was tired from soccer practise, so I decided to forego the bedtime story, which he _always_ protested that he hated anyway, that he was too old for – and stepped out of his bedroom and jarred the door after myself.

I didn't know if I wanted to tell Daniel about Tohon. I didn't even know if I _could_ tell him, if I could face him again… with him knowing who I was! And suddenly I felt ill, and had to sit down on the floor in the hallway outside of Tohon's bedroom, and wondered what it would mean for Tohon if I did tell Daniel: If Daniel would insist that I inform Tohon that he was his father, and not my boyfriend (who knew this himself – that he was not Tohon's father – but had never objected to Tohon's labelling him as such); or if Daniel suddenly wanted to take him away from me…

Despite my worries and fears, I did not relay my feelings to Matt (my boyfriend) and felt, later, when he was sleeping, that I had somehow betrayed him for failing to do so. We were, after all, also friends.

* * *

It was a year – and one-and-a-half novels and a collection of short stories – later that I found myself and my car, once again, at the motor mechanics where I'd first seen Daniel after so many years, and realised – for the first time – that I'd never once considered the fact that maybe Daniel had met someone, that maybe Daniel had a family of his own, and tried to recall whether he'd been wearing a ring, before I realised that he'd probably have taken it off at work.

A year later (and) I still lived in my house on the beach – Tohon was a year older – but Matt no longer lived with us. He'd left me (us) for a woman named Liv, whose full name was Livinia, and as hard as it was for me, I realised that it must be many, many times harder still for Tohon, suddenly without a father (without any father, not just an absent father, after Matt had informed Tohon that he was not, in fact, his father, and I'd screamed at him, "Biological father, perhaps not! But you are his father! You are the only father he's ever known! Don't you leave us for that whore!" and he'd turned around and walked out); ever since which, I strongly suspected, Tohon had hated me. I'd not only called his father's new girlfriend a whore – such indecent language! – but I'd also provoked him (in his eyes) into leaving, driven him into the arms of Liv, and irretrievably away from him!

The little café I'd been to a year ago had changed hands and now went by another name, which I was eager to try out whilst my car was being serviced, and I turned swiftly to walk out and make my way across the road… and came face-to-face with Daniel, and hoped he didn't recognise me, though I was wearing sunglasses – a new pair this time – again.

"I thought perhaps I'd scared you away!" Daniel exclaimed, good naturedly.

I felt a jolt in my stomach, and wondered for a moment what it was, before realising that it had been Daniel's voice. I wanted to tear past him and run away, across the road, but I just stood there.

"I'm sorry! That was rude! And possibly scary! It's Daniel. How are you, Penny?"

I stared at him. He _had_ recognised me, after all! And he had said nothing!

"It's so good to see you after all of this time!" Daniel continued, which made me want to slap him – _hard_!

But I just said, "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

Daniel smiled, and glanced around him. "Of course, Penny."

I was starting to become annoyed at how many times he'd used my name – or maybe it was just that he _had_ – and followed him to the break room, or whatever it was (I didn't feel up to asking).

"Are you alright, Penny?" Daniel asked. "Is everything alright?"

Finally, I raised my hand to slap him – he had no right to say my name, or say it that way, or look at me, or… – and pushed him into a wall and kissed him.

He forcibly broke the kiss and held me at arms length and gazed at me with a steady frown. "Penny, talk to me."

"Let me go!" I told him angrily, though he continued to hold onto my arms for a moment longer, before finally releasing my arms. I immediately stepped forward and kissed him again.

He was holding my arms again, trying not to be upset. "Penny! Please tell me what this is about!"

I frowned. I wasn't thinking clearly, but I didn't care. "It's not about anything," I told him. "I want to kiss you… so I was kissing you."

If I had been thinking clearly, his next question – and the seriousness with which he asked it – would have made me laugh. "Why, Penny?"

"Because it feels nice," I replied.

He dropped his eyes to the space of floor between our feet, and I immediately wanted to reach over and lift his chin again, so I could gaze into his eyes. "Are you alright, Penny?" he asked the floor in a younger (shy and uncertain) voice.

I didn't reply, I was waiting for him to look at me.

"If you are," he said, to the floor again, and paused, perhaps deciding whether to speak or not, "then meet me in the diner down the road."

I stared at him, and did not dare to smile, and he let go of my arms, but did not look up from the floor.

"Go now, Penny," he said.

And I went.

* * *

I'd walked down the road and I'd found the diner, and I'd waited there for an hour and a half, before I'd had to return to the motor mechanics to pick up my car – though I hadn't seen Daniel anywhere, and I'd started to think that maybe he'd bailed – but I'd gone back to the diner anyway, even though I'd started to think that maybe it hadn't been such a great idea, after all – kissing Daniel – as I was drinking my coffee, three hours later, and thinking that maybe – when I'd finished my coffee – I'd get up, refill the car, and go home.

I drank the last of my coffee, walked to counter and bought a pack of gum, and walked outside to my car, white gravel crunching beneath my high heels.

Daniel stood beside my car, and had just stepped away from where he'd been standing leant against it. "Hello, Penny," he said.

I stared at him, thinking that maybe I'd turn and run back inside, back into the diner, for both of our goods, and order another coffee, or another couple of coffees, but the way he'd said my name had melted something inside my brain… the way he sounded so innocent, and forlorn, and so much like a school boy… and he made me feel the same way, and the school girl part of me just wanted to reach over and hold his hand… but the adult part of me wanted to do more than just hold his hand, which was what I was afraid of.

Daniel was not an object, and I'd hated when I'd been nothing more than one, but now here I was, thinking that maybe I could handle that… could handle being the object, if I wasn't the only one! God, I wanted to slap myself! Several times! I wanted – needed – to slap some sense into myself!

But instead I said, "Come inside with me." I didn't offer to buy him a drink – a coffee, or a soda – or anything to eat, but he stepped up to me, and walked beside me anyway, and I wondered how best to have him accompany me into the bathroom without it being suspicious, until I remembered that I hadn't seen any bathrooms inside and realised that they must be outside, and leant over and whispered in Daniel's ear, "I lied. Give me your hand."

And he did.

* * *

"Um, excuse me, but can I use the toilet now?" a female voice asked from the other side of the cubicle door.

I pulled away from Daniel, eyes widening with embarrassment and mischief, and Daniel hurriedly removed his hand from my leg, much to my regret.

Suppressing a sigh, I spun the lock and opened the cubicle door, ready with an explanation about how I'd been feeling too sick to hold myself up, or something like that.

"Penny McGuire!" Britt cried, and then she saw Daniel, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

At the sight of Britt, my best friend, I almost giggled, and said quickly, face blushing, "This isn't what it looks like!" Though, I conceded, I might have used a more serious tone if I expected Britt to believe me.

Britt giggled and shook her head briefly, tossing a hand into the air, "Actually, I'm fine now! You can just continue doing whatever it is you weren't doing, if you want!" She lowered her voice to a whisper and blushed. "I would!"

I swatted her arm playfully and grinned. "Daniel, this is my friend, Britt," I introduced. "Britt, this is… my mechanic, Daniel."

Daniel held out a hand, before he thought to quickly wipe it on the leg of his pants – though I wasn't fussed about a bit of oil or grime – and offered his hand again, which Britt shook, smiling widely. "Hello, Britt."

"Hi!" Britt shot me a quick, excited look, obviously thinking that I'd decided _To Hell with Matt!_ "Well," she said, drawing the word out, "this was great! Meeting you both here like this – in a toilet!" She giggled, and planted a hand over her mouth, and only lowered her hand to cry, "Get a room!" before she dashed out of the bathroom.

I plastered a hand over my own mouth – What had Britt just said! And so loudly! – and turned to face Daniel, who was frowning at the floor, and looked up when he felt my eyes on him.

"What do you think?" I asked excitedly.

Daniel glanced up into my face, and reached over and took both of my hands in between his own two hands. I wanted him to touch more than just my hands. "Perhaps some other time, Penny," he said, his voice apologetic, almost sad, but sensible.

I stopped smiling. I wanted to argue, but I knew he was probably right. And if he didn't feel right with it, then I couldn't push him to continue just because I felt very right with it.

He dropped my hands and brought his hands up to my face and held my face cupped in his hands and kissed me carefully on the lips.

I let my eyes fall to my high heels.

His hands left my face and I felt him take my hand. "Let me walk you to your vehicle, Penny. This is no place for goodbyes."

I stepped away from him, already regretting doing so, and felt my hand slip from his own, felt the warmth of his hand leave my own. "Goodnight," I said, and turned to walk to the door.

"Goodnight, Penny," he whispered.

I shut the bathroom door.

* * *

_In the film, the character of the Prisoner was never expressly giv__en a name, either in the scenes or the credits. Of course, the letters from Mary had to have had a name on the envelope they had come in (for them to have reached him), which was probably the actor's name – it was blurry, but that was what it looked like – so I decided that I would assign him the name Daniel, the actor's first name, despite it being credited as DB in the credits (On Wikipedia, the D stands for Daniel)._

_Plus, I'm somewhat partial to the name… due to _Stargate: SG-1's_ Daniel Jackson._


End file.
